


Tangle

by unamaga



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Hair Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unamaga/pseuds/unamaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's never had a true fetish before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kashmir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashmir/gifts).



> So, uh. Raise your hand if you like John Sheppard's hair? Dedicated to Julie. She knows why.

John's never had a true fetish before.

Sure, he's let a few partners go a little wild with him, tie him up or hold him down or ask him to do the same, and he's always been a little too fond of fingering - but the hair thing is different. It's weird, for one, and if he was with anyone other than Rodney (Rodney, who gets this bright, hot look in his eyes and pulls a little more than John expects him to), he'd be embarrassed enough by his reactions to call the whole relationship off. But it's also very...private. Intimate. It makes him feel cherished and taken care of, Rodney's big hand cradling the back of his skull while those clever fingers find all the right spots to scratch and press.

"Lie back," Rodney murmurs, and John obeys, feeling the cool sheets against his naked back and thighs absorb his heat right away. Rodney's behind him, propping him up and tugging him around like a manequin until he's settled in the vee of Rodney's legs, his hands curved over Rodney's kneecaps, and he can't see anything but his own cock rising hard and red between thighs, his own skin flushed with need, the bedsheets draped over his shins.

Rodney drops a sweet kiss just behind the shell of his ear. "Relax, let me do this for you."

John nods and closes his eyes when he feels the first touch: fingers slowly, gently brushing the hair at the back of his head upwards - no contact with his scalp, just a delicious, shivery tingle that makes his cock jerk against his stomach.

Yeah, this was a good idea.

"God," Rodney moans softly. John can feel it against his skin, close enough to his ear that he knows Rodney's watching over his shoulder, seeing the goosebumps break out on his thighs, the way he can't keep himself from trembling at the simple, innocent touch.

Without warning, Rodney's fingers are sinking into his hair, deep, deeper, until the pads are pressed against skin and Rodney's short nails are scratching an itch John hadn't realized was there. He grits his teeth against the noise bubbling up from his toes, closes his eyes so he won't have to watch his dick leave a smear of wet across his stomach. He feels lightheaded already, like his feet are on one side of a canyon and he's bracing his arms against the other while Rodney carefully plucks one finger after another away from the cliff's edge and watches him scramble for purchase.

Rodney knows exactly how to work him over even though they've never done this with such intent before. He knows the way to twist strands around each other, the shiver it'll produce if he trails his nails up against the grain towards John's natural part, when to press the pads of his thumbs in and work circles into John's scalp.

It's good; so good John's cock is leaking steadily and it's all he can do to keep his hands off himself.

He wants to touch, to bring himself off, because he _knows_ how good it would feel after all this teasing - one, two, three rough tugs and he'd be gone. But Rodney's whispering in his ear again ( _doing so good for me, come on, John_ ) and more than he wants to come, he wants to do this for Rodney, wait until he's told he can.

As if he can tell what John's thinking, Rodney asks, "Can you?" kissing the side of his neck. "Without touching?"

"I - I don't know."

Rodney's fingers do something wicked, pulling sharply, abruptly, so John's head snaps back; white creeps in on the edges of John's vision. "Try for me, John."

His dick _hurts_ it's so hard, but his hands are still on Rodney's knees, holding on for all they're worth. He doesn't remember the last time he was this desperate for it, can barely hear his own ragged pleas over the sudden rush of his own blood in his ears. "I - I need - _Rodney_ , I -"

It takes him a minute to realize his eyes are still focused on his cock, and that Rodney's free hand isn't on his chest to hold him down anymore, but rubbing his thigh in slow circles, easing closer and closer to the base of his erection. The very edge of Rodney's thumbnail runs up the vein on the underside and John comes so hard and loud his mouth tastes like copper.


End file.
